#Thermal toy

[helshollowhalls]

Warmies® Fledermaus Wärmestofftier mit Hirsekern-Lavendel Füllung

[EN: Warmies® Bat Warming Cushion, filled with millet and lavender]

heatable in microwave or oven ¦ filling not removable ¦ not washable ¦ height circa 25 cm ¦ weight circa 520g

[toytulini]

man everyone complains about snipers in splatoon and dont get me wrong, skilled snipers can, will, and do, wreck my shit, but everytime i see a sniper on the other team i do get a lil excited. enrichment in my enclosure. shiny thing to hunt and harass. sorry to all snipers i am targeting you specifically bc you are sooooo shiny and fun to harass. largely this is not an issue and i dont feel too bad about targeting snipers specifically bc I'm not good enough at the game for it to be some sort of unfairness. like i said. i frequently get my shit wrecked and never learn.

[icantsaveu]

good spot for a swim 🫣🩲the water was 27 degrees (Celsius). great little hot spring!

[eepy-sea]

Additionally, in my personal opinion, 69° is a pretty Ideal temperature. I always have thermostats set to 69° for fun and comfort

fahrenheit defenders i do not respect:

- “why would you need to know what temperature water freezes at” (i live in a place where snow and cars co-exist)

- “it’s a 0-100 scale so 50 degrees is a perfectly average temperature” (‘average temperature’ is subjective, i have seen enough people from different climates fight over what qualifies as ‘hot’ and ‘cold’ to know that does not work)

- “it just makes more sense objectively” (it’s only intuitive to you bc it’s what you’re used to)

fahrenheit defenders i respect:

- “you’re just jealous because we can say it’s 69 degrees outside” (i am)

[kids-01]

Thermal-Aid Zoo — Baxter The Bunny — Kids Hot and Cold Pain Relief Heating Pad Microwavable Stuffed Animal and Cooling Pad — Easy Wash, Natural Sleep Aid — Pregnancy Must-Haves for Baby First Aid Kit. Available on Amazon >>

[mariasont]

Lip Gloss - S.R

a/n: wow this is really short and i feel like i overuse the lip gloss shtick but

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

summary: in which spencer really likes your sparkly lip gloss

warnings: none? fluff

wc: 0.5k

Pink. Sparkles. Lip gloss. Those were the only thoughts running through Spencer's mind as he walked into the break room. Which this was a surprise to him because usually his mind was running a mile a minute--mathematical equations, book references, and case theories. But when you were near that was all reduced to a heaping pile of nothing. Especially now, as you leaned casually against the counter, in pink pumps and matching skirt that definitely wasn't up to the dress code, but he wasn't sure if you cared.

Cradled between your hands was a white mug, its side inscribed with the words 'Britney survived 2007. You can handle today' in stark black letters. He had no idea what it meant, but he noticed it was your favorite, a staple in your daily routine, unless it found its way to the top self, an inconvenience Spencer would subtly always rectify when he went to pour his own cup.

The focal point of his attention, however, was your lips, more precisely, the sheer layer of shimmering gloss that clung to them. Words were forming on those same lips, presumably directed at him, but they seemed to dissolve before reaching his ears, his gaze transfixed by the glistening movement of your mouth.

"Huh?"

With a smile, you pressed your glittering lips together and took a step in his direction. He managed to clear his throat, trying to redirect his attention to your eyes, but his gaze remained helplessly planted.

"I swear, half my routine is just reapplying this stuff after every sip," you said while your thumb worked diligently to wipe away the sparkling smudge from the mug.

"Considering the non-Newtonian fluid dynamics of the lip gloss's polymeric substances, which exhibit both viscous and elastic properties, it leads to a higher propensity for adhesion and cohesion on substrates with varying thermal coefficients."

Your fingers absentmindedly toyed with your earlobe as you cocked your head, a bemused furrow forming above your eyes, but your smile remained undiminished.

"Sorry, that went right over my head," you laughed, nose scrunching in the process. "But it's sweet of you to assume I caught all that."

"Oh, sorry, well, lip gloss is made of oils and waxes that give it that shiny appearance. However, these ingredients don't fully absorb to your skin, so when you press your lips against something, like a hot coffee cup, the excess transfers over."

Heat suffused his face as he registered the unwavering attention you afforded him, as if you were hanging on his every syllable. He sensed your struggle to comprehend, but your effort was evident. He really liked having your attention.

"So, with all that brainpower, do you have any tips for keeping my gloss on my lips instead of my mug?"

"Maybe a straw?"

Your laughter was like music to his ears, filling his senses as your hand, perfectly manicured, lightly touched his arm. A rush of warmth flooded his neck, and he looked at you, momentarily lost for words, as you murmured, "I'll try that out, thanks, Dr. Reid."

"Spencer," he corrects.

"Right, well, thank you, Spencer," you said, standing on tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek, before twirling on your heels, your smile lingering in the air.

Spencer could feel the stickiness on his skin, his fingers pressing against the spot you had left, feet glued to the ground. He starting to think he really likes lip gloss. 

[punkitt-is-here]

i get why people love fixing up and upgrading computers n shit putting on new thermal paste and replacing my fan makes me feel like that guy who repairs woody in toy story 2. pure bliss. this creature that i play videos games on is being treated to a spa day massage.

[ncis-nerd]

Christmas Cheer

new au alert

Ship: Wife WandaNat x Reader // Platonic Kate & Reader // Brief mention of Kate x Yelena

Warnings: Mentions of Christmas, working in retail, the festive season, winter, alluding to reader being anemic.

About: Christmas time is the best time of the year for most, you love the generosity of people during this season. The Christmas movies, the hot chocolate, gift giving and most of all, spending time with the people you love. 

You hummed softly to the Christmas jingle playing in the background. You loved your job, you loved your elderly boss who would show you pictures of her grandchildren, your friend/co-worker Kate who you would spend your lunch break with. Going with you to your favorite Chinese Takeout place.

You loved your job but sometimes you regretted working retail at a toy shop during the Christmas season. Not to get you wrong, you loved seeing the joy on the kids faces, the sparkle in their eye when they got their heart set on a toy they really wanted. And you loved the magic of the festive season but it could be overwhelming sometimes. 

Stressed parents running on low energy and little sleep, desperate to find the popular toy their kid wants, searching endless stores just for the toy to be sold out. You couldn't blame them.

You didn't realize you were staring at these two women looking at the window's display of toys. They smiled softly, one woman had on this red and white knitted hat with reindeer on it. The other had a long coat on. You saw her whisper to the woman with the hat. The woman with the hat had a hot chocolate in her hand.

“Hello? Earth to Y/n?” Kate waved her hand in front of your face. “Huh?” You returned your attention to the raven haired girl.

“I said, do you want to go on lunch right now?” Kate asked as a low growl sounded from her stomach. You chuckled softly at the warning from your friend’s stomach that she was hungry.

“Sure! Let me just grab my coat and we can go.” You nodded, heading to the back room where your locker was. 

As you zipped up your red puffy jacket, Kate appeared in the doorway. “Ready?” She asked. You nodded as the two of you made your way to the Chinese restaurant. 

“It's so cold I can see my breath!” Kate exclaimed, exhaling only to be greeted with a small trail of fog exiting her mouth. You shivered in your layers which consisted of your hat, gloves, scarf, sweater, shirt, second shirt, pants and thermal pants. You got cold easily and instead of complaining all the time (which you still do by the way), you learnt that layering up helps you stay warm. Your mom had told you many times “I don't know how you can do it, I could never wear that many layers” but you shrugged her off. 

“We're here! I can smell the food!” Kate smiled as she opened the door to Tony's. Tony's is the name of the Chinese Takeout restaurant you and Kate go to. You've been going there ever since the first day you were hired. You can still remember it vividly. You were sitting in the backroom eating your pb&j sandwich when Kate came in and introduced herself. The two of you were around the same age, the rest of your co-workers were way older than you guys so Kate made the decision to talk to you and become friends. From that day on, you guys have been going to Tony's for lunch. 

Now that it's December, Tony's is more crowded. Especially since they came out with their Christmas themed menu, families and teenagers lined up to get something. 

Thankfully, there was no one when you and Kate went. If there was, you feared Kate's stomach might explode. 

“Hi there ladies, table for 2?” Steve smiled, as he picked up two menus. “Yup!” You nodded. “Is that Kate and Y/N?” You heard Clint's voice from the kitchen.

Clint was a chef who worked at Tony's, he had cooked if not all the meals you and Kate shared there, than most. In your time going to Tony's, you had gotten to know Clint well, you know he has a wife and two young daughters who sometimes come to visit him during his break.

“Yeah!” Steve responded. “Hello Kate, hello Y/N. How's the shift going?” Clint had a warm smile on his face. “Work's going well, how are things here?” You spoke. “Same old, same old. I assume you two want your regular?” Clint nodded. “Yeah, better make it quick. Kate here is starving.” You smirked. “Hey! I'm not starving!” Kate whined. You looked at her with a chuckle as she proved her own point with the whining. 

Clint led you two to your table. “Food should be out shortly” Clint nodded as he left. Your eyes scanned the room. You noticed a family sitting at one of the circular booth tables. The little girl had on a pink tutu and an orange shirt. The mom was on the phone and the dad was holding the brother. The little girl made eye contact with you and waved. You smiled softly and waved back.

Clint returned with your water and Kate’'s coffee and placed it down on the table. There was a soft red tint on Kate's face, you could tell she was texting her girlfriend, Yelena.

That's when you noticed the couple from the toy store had entered the restaurant. The blonde was taking off her hat as the woman in the long coat took her friend's hand and rubbed her hands together, to warm it up. You smiled softly at this gesture, you loved seeing how the holiday spirit brought people together.

Clint led the two ladies to the 2 seater tables right by you and Kate. “Thank you” the woman with the hat spoke, with a thick Sokovian accent. “Of course. Can I get you started on drinks?” Clint spoke. “I would like the bloody mary” the other woman spoke, her voice laced in a thick Russian accent.

“And for you ma'am?” Clint looked at the blonde. “Hot chocolate is fine. Thanks.” She nodded. Clint left once again, to make their drinks this time.

“This place is nice” the blonde spoke. “Да, освещение красивое, и меню выглядит хорошо.” the Russian responded. 

The Russian's eyes fell on you, you quickly looked away. Hoping that she didn't notice your staring. 

“Симпатичная девушка из магазина игрушек здесь.” the Russian's attention focused back on the woman sitting across from her. 

You wondered what she was saying. Right on cue, Clint comes out with your chicken lo mein and Kate's fried rice.

“That looks so good, my mouth is literally watering right now” Kate moaned. You giggled at her reaction. 

“I wish you a Merry Christmas” filled the silence in the restaurant as your phone went off. In that moment you regretted your ringtone. “Hello?” You answered. “Hi Y/N, I'm so sorry to disturb you from your lunch break but it’s so busy in here right now and we could sure use you and Kate back here at the store” You felt bad you guys were understaffed today and it probably didn't help that you and Kate took your lunch break at the same time. “Of course, I’ll let Kate know. We should be back shortly.” You hung up. 

Kate groaned, “Nooo.. I’m so hungry.” You frowned apologetically, “Sorry Kate, Elaine needs us back. She said there’s a big crowd in there right now.” You signaled for Clunt to return. “Hey, can you make this a to-go. Kate and I have to return to work unfortunately.” You said as Clint took the food away.

You zipped back up your coat and collected your belongings as you and Kate walked up to the register.

“Have a good one and stay warm, alright?” Clint spoke.

Google Translate:

Да, освещение красивое, и меню выглядит хорошо. - Yes, the lighting is beautiful and the menu looks good.

Симпатичная девушка из магазина игрушек здесь. - The cute girl from the toy store is here.

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Six

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour in a semi-public place. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 4.7k

A/N : I think I've finally sorted the tagging issue.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE

MASTER LIST

Chapter Six

It felt like you were in a daze, like the night before had just been a fever dream. You’d almost been willing to write it off as a dream before you saw a note in your kitchen from Billy, telling you that the leftovers from dinner had been put in the refrigerator for you. There was no telling if he’d brought them through himself or if he’d had the maid do it, but you appreciated the gesture nonetheless. 

After your usual morning routine, you headed to the library to finally return Billy’s copy of Dorian Gray, exchanging it for Jane Eyre, another book that you’d never been allowed to read growing up.

By the time Billy emerged at sunset, you’d finished the leftovers and you were sitting on the sofa, with your nose buried in the book and your stuffed beagle on your lap. You’d even put tonight's blood in his thermal travel mug, hoping to keep it warm for him.

“Good evening,” he said as he joined you on the sofa, eyeing his travel mug before turning his attention to you and smiling all the more when he noticed the stuffed toy. “I hope I’m not interrupting the two of you.”

“Not at all, me and Bill were just reading.”

“Bill?” He laughed. “You can’t call him Bill.”

“But he’s Bill the Beagle,” you told him, biting your lip and trying your damnedest to stifle your own laughter. “It’s too late to change it, he’s used to it now.”

The both of you sat for a moment, trying to fight back the laughter but it didn’t last. You cracked first and, soon enough, the pair of you were laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. Just the sound of his laughter had you smiling. It was nice, precious even. It was only then that you realised that you didn’t hear him laugh very often, at least, not properly. He seemed happy, honestly happy with no hint of smugness.

“Is this for me?” He asked, reaching for the mug.

You nodded, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious at how much thought went into the gesture. “I just thought…”

“Thank you,” he offered, obviously sensing your discomfort and not wanting to force you to finish the thought. After taking a slow drink, his attention turned to the book on your lap. “So, what are you reading now?”

“Jane Eyre,” you answered and caught a questioning look from him. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just very... apt.” 

“Is it?

“I wouldn’t want to spoil it for you,” he answered. Then, a beat later, he changed the subject. “I’d like to ask you something; I’m throwing a party here next month, and I’d very much like you to come. It’ll mean taking you for a new dress, of course, but -”

“A new dress?” You repeated, barely keeping up with all the information he was throwing your way. “But I already have so many.”

“I want you to have something special, something you picked for yourself. And it means an evening out of the penthouse,” Billy explained. You didn’t need to answer, he could tell just from the look on your face that you wanted to. “We can go on Wednesday.”

“Okay,” you smiled.

“Great, now that that’s settle, what do you want to do tonight?”

You fell silent, wondering if it was a trick question, if there was an expected answer. It’d be a lie to say that some part of you wasn’t hoping for a repeat of the night before, but you couldn’t say that.

“We could watch something?” You offered and Billy almost seemed taken aback by the simplicity of the suggestion. “Just - you know, because we talked a lot last night and I haven’t exactly done anything interesting today...”

“If that’s what you want to do,” he shrugged.

“We don’t have to, if you’d rather...” you trailed off, cheeks starting to warm.

Billy reached for you, fingers ghosting your cheek as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “No pressure or expectations, remember?” He told you softly. “If you want to watch a movie, we can watch a movie, okay?”

The only response you could give was a meek nod before quickly excusing yourself. When you returned a couple of minutes later, you had a blanket and a bowl of popcorn, explaining to Billy that they were crucial for a TV night. He nodded while fighting back a laugh and you realised that, while you’d been out of the room, he’d been and grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses. 

“Why don’t you find us something to watch?”  Billy asked, handing you the remote.

And then began five minutes of mindless scrolling through Netflix, watching trailers, and trying to find something that you’d both enjoy.

“What about this one?” You asked, lingering on Black Sails, a show that caught your attention because it was about pirates and you’d been interested in pirates ever since you’d  secretly read Treasure Island as a child. “It’s a series but... well, we’ve got all year, right? Maybe we could watch TV together more often?”

For a moment, he just looked at you, the smile on his lips growing, like you were offering him far more than the occasional night in front of the TV.

“Okay, let’s watch some pirates,” he agreed, filing the two wine glasses and handing you one of them.

When you’d chosen the show, you’d thought that you’d be able to watch and talk but, within five minutes, you were hooked. 

It wasn’t long before Billy was awkwardly reaching across, trying to steal your popcorn, prompting you to edge closer and closer until you were pressed against his side. You were so caught up in the show that you barely noticed Billy draping his arm around you or the way your head had ended up resting on his shoulder. 

One episode finished and another started, then another. You made little comments to each other, but after the popcorn and wine were gone, you were mostly silent. There was more sex and nudity than you’d expected and you felt your cheeks warm every time. If Billy noticed, he was nice enough not to say anything about it. But, aside from that, you were enjoying it; you were enjoying the whole night. It was nice. And Billy seemed to be enjoying it too.

“Oh, now I see why you’re watching this,” Billy joked when a particularly muscled and shirtless pirate appeared on screen. You pulled a face. “What? He not your type?”

“I don’t have a type,” you confessed, playfully nudging him with your elbow. 

Billy retaliated by nudging you back and things seemed to escalate from there. You gave him a shove and he pushed back, his hand discovering a ticklish spot on your side and, once Billy realised you were ticklish, it was game over. You squealed as he started to tickle you, laughing and pushing against him but, somehow, you ended up on your back with him above you. The tickling continued for a moment, but it soon turned into kissing.

“What is it about you?” he asked softly. “How do you make me want like this?” 

Before you could answer his lips were on yours again, the kiss more eager than the last. He pressed closer, his hips between your thighs, and you soon felt the increasingly familiar press of his erection against you. A soft sound slipped from your lips and into his, your heart hammering in your chest.

“The things I want to do to you,” he muttered, lips pulling from yours to your neck, kissing and sucking, leaving little marks in your skin. “The ways I want you,” he continued. “I’d ruin you. I’d make you feel things you’ve never felt before.”

It sounded insane but that didn’t stop you from wanting it, craving it.

Your hips pushed up against his while your fingertips pressed against his spine, holding him against you. A loud moan spilled from your lips when he pressed back, causing your body to tremble, your back arching against him of its own accord.

His head lifted from your neck, his dark eyes looked down at you, his jaw tense. 

“I want to make you mine,” but this time it wasn’t Billy’s voice, it was something closer to the way he’d sounded that night in the kitchen when he’d been hungry.

Every fibre of your being suddenly tensed, your heart stuttered and your breath caught. Your eyes were wide as he leaned to roughly press his lips to yours, his tongue dominating the kiss. His hips pressed down against yours again, grinding his clothed cock against you.

“I want to make you scream my name.” He growled before sinking against your lips again.

The whimper that escaped you next wasn’t one of pleasure, it was shock and, if you were honest, a little bit of fear. But that little sound seemed to be enough to snap Billy out of it.

His lips pulled from yours suddenly, and he buried his face against your neck. He was still and silent for a few seconds. All you could hear was your own panted breaths and the echo of your pounding heart in your ears.

The shock lingered but the fear was quick to dissipate. He’d stopped. You hadn’t even had to ask him to. He’d stopped the moment he realised that you were uncomfortable, even though you could still feel how unfulfilled he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered against your neck, then again; “I’m sorry.”

Your mind was racing, between this and the night in the kitchen, you didn’t know what to think. He’d been hungry that night - at least, that was the excuse you’d given for his behaviour, but now it was starting to seem like it might be something else entirely.

“Are you -” you dared to quietly ask, “- okay?”

“No,” he answered and that one broken syllable shattered your heart.

Without hesitation or pause to think, you started to run your fingers through his hair, wanting to soothe whatever it was inside of him that was hurting. You heard him take an uncomfortable breath, but you didn’t stop. 

After a few minutes, he finally started to relax a little.

“It’s okay,” you muttered. “You didn’t hurt me.”

His head lifted slowly and the look on his face caused your stomach to knot.

“I could have,” he told you, looking almost sick at the thought.

Finally, he moved, pulling away from you and sitting up, his head in his hands. You followed suit, sitting beside him, giving him a moment of silence to think.

But that silence quickly felt deafening and you felt worse for the part you’d played. You hadn’t expected the things he’d said and they’d unsettled you a little, but that was all. You weren’t used to men being so forward and borderline aggressive about their desires. But he’d stopped. He hadn’t done any of the things he said. He hadn’t hurt you. He certainly hadn’t forced you into anything.

“You could hurt me right now,” you stated. “You could’ve hurt me last night, or that night in the kitchen, but you didn’t. And I don’t think you will. I get that I’m fragile and weak, and that worries you, but -”

“I don’t think you’re fragile or weak,” he told you, lifting his head and fixing his gaze on you. “You’re not either of those things.”

It was your turn to drop your gaze, cheeks warming as you shook your head.

“Hey, look at me,” he said, and you did as he asked. “You being here is proof that you’re not

weak. Taking this job, being stuck here with me for a year, there’s nothing weak about any of that.”

Your head shook again. “You don’t understand. You were right, I am running away. I’m here because I wasn’t strong enough to do anything else.”

“Everything you’ve done since you got here - standing up to me, the night you helped me, that was reckless and dangerous. It was brave.” He told you, not giving you a chance to argue. “So, no, it’s not because I think you’re fragile and weak. It’s me, I...” he sighed, “I told you, control is an issue for me.”

Cautiously, you reached for him, taking his hand between yours and holding it tight. 

“I didn’t even have to ask you to stop, Billy,” you told him softly. “You stopped yourself before you took things too far. You were in control. And I - I don’t know, it’s not like I was scared, I’m just not used to things being that... intense.” You watched him swallow awkwardly and decided to cut him off before he could speak. “Why don’t we rewind this episode and finish watching?”

He gave an uncertain grumble and you reached for the remote, winding back the last fifteen minutes of the show, back to the last thing you remembered. Sitting back, you grabbed Bill the Beagle and pulled your blanket back up over your legs, and when Billy finally sat back, you snuggled into his side again. And, eventually, he wrapped his arm around you again.

The rest of the night passed without incident. Your eyes started to close and, for a few minutes, you even drifted off. Billy woke you with a gentle kiss on the forehead.

“Bedtime, sleepyhead,” he muttered softly, and you reluctantly agreed, stifling a yawn as you got to your feet. “I should see you briefly tomorrow, but I’m needed in the office pretty early.”

Nodding, you headed for your rooms, saying goodnight before leaving him.

True to his word, the next day you saw him at sunset for a few minutes on his way out. On Tuesday, he was almost late leaving because he pulled you into a hot and heavy makeout session in the kitchen that seemed to suggest he was frustrated about not getting to see you. But then Wednesday rolled around, and it was time for Billy to take you dress shopping.

The moment you stepped into the elevator with him, he took your hand in his and kept hold of it all the way down to the parking garage below the building, leading you to his car and opening the door for you. You’d never been in a Rolls Royce before, and you caught Billy smiling as you looked around the car in wonder as your fastened your seatbelt.

It wasn’t a long drive to the dress shop - a large boutique affair, filled with bespoke pieces as well as off-the-rack gowns and dresses. And, while you’d been in fancy dress stores before, you found yourself taken aback. Usually at times like this, you’d have your mother at your side, and she always had an idea of what you were supposed to wear; what colours were acceptable and how much skin a decent woman should show.

“Mr Russo, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” one of the assistants said as she approached.

You watched as she approached Billy and he kissed her cheeks in, what you could only describe as, a Parisian fashion. He introduced you and she took a step back, looking you up and down. Next to her you felt more child than woman - she was obviously a vampire, with perfect skin and hair that fell in natural tight ringlets, framing her face. She was another example of the stunning women who seemed to gravitate around Billy.

But it was her looking at you in an appraising way that really caught you off guard.

“Your pictures really didn’t do you justice,” she remarked and you quickly looked at Billy for clarification. 

“Hannah picked your wardrobe,” he explained.

“Oh.” Suddenly you found yourself looking down, thinking about the outfit you’d put together - jeans, a blouse and boots - wondering what the person who’d chosen all the items thought of how you’d decided to wear them.

“Why don’t you have a look around, see what speaks to you?” Hannah offered.

Billy gave a wave of his hand, indicating for you to do just that and, slowly you started to move towards the racks of dresses. It wasn’t long before you were looking at the sorts of dresses your mother might have picked for you; a-line dresses that showed a hint of your waist and with necklines high enough to cover any and all cleavage. You could practically hear her voice in your head telling you how no respectable man would ever want you if we went around showing too much skin.

While you looked, a bottle of champagne was opened and two glasses were filled; one for you and one for Billy. He kept hold of your glass while you looked around.

You pulled one dress out and looked at it front and back. It was like every other dress you’d had since you’d started to grow into your figure. It felt safe but boring, like it wasn’t really you but what you thought was expected of you. But you weren’t that person anymore - at least, you were trying not to be.

“If you don’t mind me saying, with your figure, I’d suggest something a little more fitted, something with some slink.” Hannah offered.

“Slink?” You repeated, looking at Billy, wondering what he thought.

“I think you’d look lovely in a slinky dress.”

“Can you help me choose?” You asked Hannah. “I don’t know where to even start.”

Rather than the expected look of judgement, Hannah just smiled. “Of course. Why don’t you and Mr Russo go sit down and I’ll put together a collection for you to try.”

“That would be brilliant, thank you Hannah,” Billy answered for you, handing you a glass.

Fifteen minutes later, you were in a fitting room the size of a small bedroom, looking through a whole rail of dresses. You started with a black dress, but hated it the moment it was on, then you half pulled on a short red dress but decided that you couldn’t stand the colour. Then you started to rummage through the rail again.

Your attention was quickly drawn to a  silver number, and finally you understood what Hannah had meant by slink. It had thin spaghetti straps and a neckline that plunged to a couple of inches above your belly button, and a slit running up one side from ankle almost right to your hip. Even the back of the dress hung low. 

You pulled it on and looked at yourself awkwardly in the mirror. Because of the way the dress was cut, you had to remove your bra to get a real idea of how the dress was supposed to look. You stood on tiptoes and turned this way and that, not sure what to think.

“How’s it going?” Billy called from outside.

You stayed silent for a few moments before sighing. “I don’t know,” you called back.

“Need a second opinion?”

You poked your head around the door, the awkward discomfort on your face drawing a sympathetic smile from Billy. He waited a beat before getting to his feet, you felt your cheeks warming as he approached you. You remained hidden behind the door, not sure you wanted him to see.

“I look ridiculous,” you pouted.

“Are you gonna let me see?” He asked, a hint of laughter in his tone. You shook your head and he gently pressed against the door with his hand. “Come on, let me see.”

For a moment more, you held the door in place before finally stepping back and letting the door swing open so he could see you. When he didn’t immediately say something, you took another step back.

“You hate it.”

“What? No, I’m speechless,” he told you, stepping forwards, closing the gap between you. “You look amazing.”

“I feel like a kid playing dress up.”

He kicked the door shut behind him as he stepped into the fitting room, his gaze roving up and down your body. Clearing the distance between you, he placed his hands on your hips, turning you to face towards the mirror.

“Look,” he instructed in a low voice, spoken into your ear, and you did as you were told, looking at your reflection. “You only feel like a kid because that’s how you’ve let people see you. But that’s not what I see. I see a sexy, elegant woman. I see curves and tits that get me hard, and it kills me that you don’t realise how amazing you are.”

His lips pressed to your neck before you could respond and your breath caught, watching your reflections. 

Whether it was his words or the way he was touching you, he made you feel more confident, like you really could wear the dress and not be seen as ridiculous. You pressed against him and felt his cock against your hip, and that felt like all the proof you needed that he meant what he was saying.

His hands began to move, one pressing against your stomach while the other moved to rest over your racing heart. You took a breath, filled with a sort of wanting that only he seemed to bring out in you. Not giving yourself a moment to second guess, you reached behind him, palming his erection through the fabric of his dark jeans.

“Can I -” you started quietly, voice little more than a whisper, cheeks starting to heat. Billy stared at you in the mirror, expectant but patient, letting you find the nerve to finish. “Can I touch you?”

He smirked at you through the mirror as he undid the fastenings of his jeans and pulled his cock out. Your eyes widened, watching everything through the mirror because you were too embarrassed to look down. Billy took your hand in his and wrapped it around his shaft, and you started to stroke him slowly. And, when your gaze dropped, you found Billy’s fingers beneath your chin, urging your head up.

“Don’t be shy,” he muttered in your ear, his breath catching as your thumb brushed over the tip of his cock. “See how amazing you look right now, taking what you want?”

You bit your lip, watching his reflection, seeing the way his jaw went slack as his breathing got heavier in your ear. Once he was certain you weren’t going to look away, his hand moved from your chin to your breast, slipping beneath the fabric of the dress. 

“You look so fucking good in this dress,” he groaned, returning his lips to your neck, “so confident and sexy. You’ve got no idea what I want to do to you right now.”

His hand moved, slipping one of the thin straps down your arm, causing the front of the dress to fall, exposing your breast to him. Your hand faltered for a moment, cheeks burning hotter.

“Don’t you dare look away,” he husked in your ear, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. There was a seriousness about him that sent a shiver down your spine despite the smile on his lips.

Your hand started moving quicker as his cold hand moved to grope you again. And, finally, you started to see it; when you looked at your reflection, you didn’t see the shy, embarrassed girl, you saw the woman who had Billy Russo, desperate and groaning, in the palm of her hand. You felt almost powerful, filled with a kind of confidence you’d never been allowed to feel before, and it was all thanks to Billy.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he grunted, face pressed against your neck. Your hand moved quicker as his body started to tense. “Oh, shit...”

You felt him twitch in your hand and watched him come undone. It was a beautiful sight, even if you did go straight back to feeling embarrassed once it was over.

“Are you going to try any of the others?” He asked, pulling the strap back onto your shoulder and straightening the dress, before tucking himself back into his jeans.

“I don’t think I’ll like any of them as much as I like this one.”

“I don’t think I will either,” Billy agreed, smirking at your reflection. “Why don’t you get changed and we’ll have Hannah help you find some shoes.”

You nodded and Billy pressed one more kiss to your neck before pulling away from you. He left to speak to Hannah and, for a moment, you couldn’t even move. You kept your eyes on the mirror and the woman that was staring back at you; was that really you? Could you be the confident woman who took what you wanted? Eventually your gaze dropped, realising that Billy had managed to get cum on the mirror.

That got you moving.

You quickly, but carefully, dropped the dress and started to pull your clothes back on when, suddenly, the door opened and someone stepped in.

“Sorry, I -” you started to speak but stopped the moment she lifted her fingers to her lips.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” she explained in a hushed whisper. “My name is Agent Madani, I’m with Homeland Security, and I believe you’re in danger.”

“What? I -” you took a step back, head shaking. 

“Are you being kept against your will?”

“No, I - it’s my job, I -” you didn’t get to finish.

“Your parents believe that you’ve been kidnapped,” she sounded almost confused at the revelation you were there of your own free will.

“No, I left home. It was my choice,” you told her. “They don’t know I’m here, do they?” Your voice quickly turned frantic, trying to make sense of what was happening. Surely your parents wouldn’t have been able to get Homeland to look for you.

“No, they don’t know yet -”

“Yet? They can’t know at all,” you pleaded. “Please.”

“Your parents aren’t why I’m here,” she continued quietly. “Has Russo said anything to you about the other women who’ve worked for him?”

“No, I just know that they quit because they didn’t want to work for him anymore,” you tried to explain, your mind racing.

“Three of them are missing. All presumed dead,” she told you. “Each went to work for Russo and haven’t been seen since.”

“Billy wouldn’t, he’s not -” you stopped abruptly, noticing her eyes finding the mess Billy had left on the mirror and obviously putting the pieces together. When she looked back up, you could barely hold her gaze.

“Have you seen anything suspicious? Has he tried to feed from you without permission?” She asked. “Is he forcing you to sleep with him?”

“No - no, nothing like that. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you told her, so confused by everything she was trying to tell you.

“You need to be careful. He can’t know that we’ve had this conversation. He’s dangerous -” a noise outside the fitting room seemed to spook her, “- I’ll be in touch again soon. Don't worry, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

And, then, just as quickly as she’d appeared, she left. 

Your mind was reeling over everything she’d said. It seemed insane, ridiculous. Billy had been nothing but kind to you, nothing but careful and considerate. You couldn’t imagine him hurting anyone. There had to be some other explanation.

You must have been taking too long because, soon enough, Billy appeared at the door again. 

“Are you alright? You’re not having second thoughts about the dress are you?” He asked with that soft smile that caused butterflies in your stomach.

“N-no, sorry... I guess I just got distracted,” you told him, deciding not to mention Madani to him, not knowing how he’d take it.

“Come on,” he offered you his hand, “Hannah’s picked out some shoes for you to look at.”

There was something about him in that moment, something about the way he was smiling at you that made you want to believe the best in him. After all, you’d met monsters before, and Billy Russo just didn’t seem to fit the bill. 

Grabbing the dress, you took his hand and let him lead you across the store to look at shoes. Agent Madani was nowhere to be seen and, for that evening at least, you decided to try and forget all about it. Tomorrow you’d be having lunch with Karen, maybe you’d be able to find out something then. But, in that moment, you were content to hold his hands and look at shoes, trying to forget the stain on an otherwise amazing evening. 

End Note : Dun-dun-duuuuuunnnnnnnn. I have nothing to say because I don't want to potentially spoil what I've got planned. But, yeah, I decided that reader and Billy should watch Black Sails together because it's been showing up on my dash a lot and it's an a+ show if you haven't seen it already.

As always, thanks so much for reading (and also thank you so much for all the new followers) I've really loved all the feedback from this fic and for my last fic, and you've all just been wonderful.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt. (I think I've found a way to get tagging to work properly again, please let me know if it doesn't tag you.)

Tag List : @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock

@snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @lincerad

@vxnity713 @readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure @dreadfulxives18 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @glamourbabe17

@sweetserendipity65 @damagelove @strangerfromketterdam @a-starrynightwith-u @readingabouthim

@countryday @weepingwitchofthewest @broadwaybabe18 @bunnygirlwriter876 @oliviaewl

@rosey1981 @benbarnesprettygurl

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

More A/B/O Honkai Star Rail: During Ruts and Heats

Characters: Blade, Jing Yuan, Welt, and Luocha as Alphas.

CW: nsfw, omegaverse

A/N: *sees notes* y'all love a/b/o too huh? Good because I will continue and now it's spicy :3c

-------

Blade

During his rut he gets possessive and tends to bite more.

Pinning his omega from behind teeth sunk into their scent glands or shoulder as he ruts into them barely pulling out before thrusting back in.

If he's not in the mood or has calmed down enough he'll just hold his omega close and never let them leave to get up for anything. And I mean anything, even to the bathroom where he might follow and sit outside the door like a cat.

During heats he's there for his omega to use as they please even if that includes not having "fun" and just cuddling only.

Makes it his mission to keep his omega well hydrated and fed during both, though he tends to be more aggressive about it during his ruts as he's hyper focused on them and a bit out of it.

While eating he tends to loom over them and or set them on his lap making sure they eat every bite before he decides to take a bite himself. This gets more intense when he's in his rut since all his attention is on them and only them.

Always gathers his most recently used bed sheets for his omega to use and if his clothes are clean he'll add those to the pile. Doesn't help build the nest but rather stands by watching them prep everything and handing whatever they want their way and or scenting anything they ask.

During ruts he practically stares holes into them until they give him permission to enter the nest or until they join him in his bed.

Jing Yuan

Patient while in rut and during heats even if he should be losing his cool he somehow gets even cooler? He might look calm but he's anything but, if one looks into his eyes they'd know they're about to be devoured

Doesn't go fast but he does go hard, pulling out all the way before thrusting back in. He finds some enjoyment in keeping himself restrained even when he's begged to go faster. Doesn't bite as much as you'd think as he's more focused on eating his omega out rather than staking his claim again.

Preps his room way before his rut or their heat starts, always let's people know not to disturb him unless the world is ending because he won't be leaving their nest or his bed for anything.

His bed is large enough to hold himself and Mimi so it's the perfect place to build the comfy nest of their dreams, he helps building it by providing all the pillows and soft clothes he can and scenting each one thoroughly.

Since he preps before hand there's easy filling meals ready so they can just eat their favorites in peace without disruptions and get back to... "business".

If he's not feeling up for it or they aren't either he'll just cuddle them and sleep telling them stories about his day or asking silly questions to get them to focus away from any pain his omega may be feeling.

Welt

Old man can get it but he has trouble staying energized enough for his omega so he let's toys help while he takes a break or if he's not up for it.

Loves watching them enjoy themselves as he fiddles with the vibrator control and adjusting the thrusts of the dildo to make them happy

Honestly prefers cuddling more during both because he's grown and can control himself, plus he enjoys just laying there enjoying his omega scent and keeping them safe, warm, and well fed.

Spends good chunks of his time during both just pampering his omega and fulfilling their needs and taking pride in doing so. After all no one takes good care of them like he does. A definite confidence booster.

Let's them borrow his clothes to wear and brings his own blankets to their nest so they can snuggle under his thermal sheets. He gets cold easy so this is practically heaven for him.

Luocha

Since he travels a lot he tries to schedule his dealings to be finished before his rut and their heat starts. If he can't manage that he'll always cut his own ruts off with medication and provide the best room he can find for his omega to enjoy.

Honestly doesn't care for his ruts as he dislikes being out of control of his own body but he doesn't mind spending them with his omega since they're willing to take care of him as he does them. Prefers cuddling over anything else during his ruts but he'll cave into desire if he's started sucking on their scent glands.

He doesn't bite too much during this but won't lift his head from their neck as he tries to get as much of their scent as possible. His thrusts are fast paced but not sloppy. Though when he eats them out he is as sloppy as can be as he drowns himself in their scent.

If he's present during their heat he's at their beck and call. Need water? Here's a fresh glass. Need something to eat? He just finished making them a hearty meal. Need him inside? Well...he'll see what he can do.

Always makes sure to give them freshly scented clothes and blankets to use regardless of if he's met with other people or not, he just wants them to smell him and only him. Doesn't interfere with nest building but does comment here and there how nice everything looks or how well they're doing.

Edited: 2/16/2024

[onlyonetifosi]

Hey, could you write something for Valentine’s day in Behind the camera please 🫶

Bonus behind the camera -> Valentine's day especial

lets pretend Carla and Arthur are still together (i loved them, i miss them) and that Lorenzo and Charlotte are engaged

series masterlist my main masterlist

The sun had just begun to illuminate the picturesque streets of Monaco as Yn woke up to the sweet aroma of breakfast in bed. She rubbed her eyes, smiling as she saw Joris, her boyfriend and childhood best friend, placing a tray filled with delicious treats on her lap

"Joyeuse Saint-Valentin, ma belle," Joris greeted, presenting her with a tray laden with heart-shaped pancakes, fresh fruits, and a steaming cup of coffee.

"Bon matin, ma belle," Joris greeted, leaning in to give Yn a tender kiss on the cheek.

"Good morning, my love," Yn replied, her heart fluttering at the endearment. She couldn't believe how lucky she was to have Joris in her life. This looks amazing, you're spoiling me already" Yn exclaimed, giving him a sweet kiss.

As they enjoyed their breakfast, Yn and Joris spoke of plans for the day. Little did Yn know, Joris had arranged a surprise spa day for them.

"J'ai réservé une journée au spa pour nous deux, mon amour," Joris revealed with a twinkle in his eye. (I've booked a day at the spa for us, my love.)

Yn's eyes lit up with excitement. "C'est parfait! Merci, Joris!" (That's perfect! Thank you, Joris!)

After a relaxing spa experience and a luxurious massage and some time in the sauna, they felt refreshed and ready for the rest of their day. 

As they relaxed in the spa's thermal pools, Yn sighed contentedly. "C'est vraiment le paradis, Jo." (It's truly paradise, Jo)

Joris chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from Yn's face. "Je suis heureux que tu apprécies, mon cœur." (I'm glad you're enjoying it)

The couple returned home for a cozy afternoon nap. Wrapped in each other's arms, they exchanged sweet nothings, cherishing the simple pleasure of being together.

"Wake up, sleepyhead. Let's enjoy the city, ma chérie." Joris whispered as Yn stirred from her nap

"Alright, let's go" Yn looked at him with sleepy eyes but agreed

Upon waking, they decided to take a leisurely stroll around Monaco. Hand in hand, they wandered through the charming streets of Monaco, taking in the breathtaking views of the Mediterranean. Yn's favorite boutiques beckoned, and they stopped for coffee at her beloved café.

"Mon amour, j'adore passer du temps avec toi." (My love, I adore spending time with you.) Joris whispered, intertwining his fingers with Yn's

"Et moi aussi, Jojo. C'est une journée parfaite." (And me too. It's a perfect day)

As evening approached, Yn and Joris joined her family for a Valentine's Day dinner. The Leclerc household buzzed with laughter and joy as they all gathered around the table.

"Bonsoir, ma sœur! Joyeuse Saint-Valentin!" Charles exclaimed, kissing Yn on both cheeks.

"Bonsoir, Charlie! Joyeuse Saint-Valentin à toi aussi," Yn replied, returning the gesture.

The dinner table was filled with lively conversations, as they all shared stories and laughter. 

As they sat around the table, Lorenzo had an announcement.

"Nous avons une grande nouvelle à partager," he said, holding Charlotte's hand. (We have some big news to share.)

Yn's eyes widened as Charlotte showed off her engagement ring. "Nous allons nous marier!" Lorenzo announced happily. (We are getting married!)

The room erupted in cheers and congratulations. Yn hugged her brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law, genuinely happy for them.

Yn stole glances at her older brother Charles, happy to see him so content with his girlfriend, Alexandra.

"Je suis tellement heureux pour toi, Cha," Yn said, expressing her happiness for her brother. (I am so happy for you, Charles.)

"Merci, Yn. Et toi, Joris, prends bien soin de ma sœur, d'accord?" Charles playfully warned Joris. (Thank you, Yn. And you, Joris, take good care of my sister, okay?)

Joris nodded with a smile, "Bien sûr, Charles. Toujours." (Of course, Charles. Always.)

The night concluded with shared desserts, laughter, and a feeling of warmth that only family and true love could bring. As Yn and Joris exchanged glances, they knew that this Valentine's Day would be etched in their hearts forever.

taglist: @love4lando@gcldtom@im-mi@hiireadstuff@celesteblack08@reblog-princess@sunf1ower16@janeholt3@athena-artemis-dorian-gray@minkyungseokie

[weirdlookingsnakewithlegs]

Any unsettling or just outright fucked up and creepy headcanons for our little seekies?

I got chu >:3

Seekers will eat things while they’re still alive, similar to how hyeanas or african wild dogs do. The reason behind this is that in the beginning, seekers were either hunted or chased from their kills by predacons, this led them to be more vicious hunters that would actively attempt to consume their food as quickly as possible.

Seekers, like many predators, have excellent night vision. Some even having thermal vision as well, this is unsettling to most grounders for the sole purpose of “It can see me but I can’t see it”

Only some seekers keep parts of their deceased family/friend’s frames, but it’s common for trinemates to keep the wings of a fallen trinemate. If they can find them.

Scraplets are usually swallowed whole.

In the case a seekerlet comes out injured or malformed, it will be… dispatched by the Winglord. Seekers cannot allow deformed or damaged offspring to survive lest they develop sky sickness and die anyway. The seekerlets body would then be consumed to regain metals and energon that was lost.

As seekers age they develop more sensitivity on their wings, this can lead to a single scratch feeling like a leg getting snapped in half.

Seekers possess two rows a denta, one of which is further in their intakes, used to shred metals to better fit and melt into their crucibles.

Seekers enjoy toying with prey, if a seeker begins to purposefully leave marks on your armor then they’re either courting you or deciding that you make a good meal, have fun finding out which one!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 50

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, post partum, csection, suicidial ideation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your promise to Lloyd is empty. You have no great urge to see Andy again. You’re embarrassed at the thought. Even a bit guilty as you accept that any sliver of excitement he brought to you has flown away. The return of your husband drags you back down to earth in the most desolating way.

You swipe away another notification. You don’t know how to reply to Andy. It doesn’t seem right to tell him over a text. Still, you can’t bring yourself to face him. Your last two conversations haven’t been exactly productive. How many times can you tell him this was never meant to be anything more than sex?

That’s when you feel rotten. You used him the same way you’ve been used. Just a release, a thing to make you feel better about yourself. Worse, he’s a widower. He’s lost so much already and now you’re toying with him. That’s hardly fair.

You sit with Luna on the floor. Getting down there was hard enough and you don’t want to ponder how you’ll get back up. She lays on her mat, raising her head to look around. She’s still needy but you see her changing. Maybe she sees the same in you with how she stares at you.

There’s a knock at the door. You brace yourself. You already know it isn’t Lloyd, he would just barge in. You know he hasn’t changed at all. Luna’s head bobbles as she tries to look around and you call for whoever it is to enter.

“Hey, we goin’ on that walk?” Harlen asks as he enters, already half-dressed for the dipping temperature. You notice the metallic red thermos in his hand, “I was hopin’ to get out.” He present the capped container, “got us some hot chocolate even.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” you make yourself smile, “yeah, that might be a good idea.”

“Here, let me help,” he sets the thermos down and crosses the room, offering his hand to haul you up.

“Go on, get ready,” he bids as he grunts, bending to pick up Luna from the floor, “oh, she gettin’ heavy.” He stands straight, “I need the workout anyhow.”

“I have a suit for her. Thermal,” you explain as you search the dresser against the nursery wall. The last few nights you’ve spent sleeping in the glider chair, your own fortress in a castle not your own.

“You let me worry about that,” he nears, rocking Luna in one arm as he takes the insulated outfit from you, “go get something warm on. You gotta take care of you too.”

You look at him. You nod. He’s the only man you can’t bring yourself to argue with, maybe because he’s the only one who’s ever really cared. You love that about him but it makes you think of your own dad and how he would rather his flask than to spend a single birthday with you.

“Right,” you surrender, “I won’t be long.”

You leave the nursery and head down to the guest room. The door is already unclasped but you don’t think much of it until you enter. You find Lloyd sat on the foot of the bed with the little crescent moon toy Luna likes so much. His eyes flick up as you sigh.

You ignore him and go to the closet. You take out an old sweatshirt and dig out some jeans from a drawer. You feel him watching you. You hear him get up and come closer as you take out a pair of wool socks.

“Gonna be Christmas soon enough…” he says.

“Oh shut up,” you snarl.

It’s his turn to sigh. He angles around to stand beside you, facing you, and puts the toy on the dresser. You walk away from him and he follows you towards the bathroom door. The very idea of him seeing how he ravaged your body, the stretchmarks and the loose skin, repulses you. You won’t give him that victory.

As you try to close the door in his face, he forces his foot between it and the frame, “you have to talk to me eventually. She’s my daughter. I have a legal right–”

“Why did you come back? I know it’s not because of her,” you lean on the door. He’s just as strong as ever. If he really wanted to, he could overpower you.

“You,” he says. “I was always going to come back–”

“No, no, no. Lloyd, enough lies. It’s over. You know that. Whatever made you want me, I’m not it anymore. So whoever you were out fucking, go back to them. You won’t get anything from me.”

“I didn’t–”

“Fuck. Off.”

You stomp his toe and he recoils. You take the opportunity to slam the door and flip the lock into place. You keep your hand on the door and catch your breath. You hear him on the other side, lingering, the friction of his touch dragging down the other side.

“Peaches…” he says.

You scoff and push away. You go to the counter and put down the armful of clothes. You look at yourself in the mirror. You don’t even feel bad for yourself, you feel worse that Luna has to call someone like him a father.

🍑

You meet Harlan downstairs. He has Luna bundled up and helps you get her strapped into the baby carrier that hooks over your shoulders. It’s much easier than the stroller, if not a bit of a strain on your back.

He tucks the thermos into the large pocket of his coat and opens the door for you. He trails you outside into the brisk air of late autumn. The chill nips at your cheeks and nose as you adjust Luna’s hood to make sure she’s cozy.

“Thanksgiving soon. Dot was talkin’ bout it,” he says as you walk down the long driveway, “she talkin’ a lot lately. Driving me a bit crazy.”

“Oh,” you raise your brows dully. You haven’t said much to her. You resent her for all those weeks of sticking up for her son and her tune hasn’t changed, “yeah, maybe… get a turkey.”

“Ha, come on, what are we gon’ do? Sit down for a family dinner? She just wants peace but she won’t acknowledge the battle,” he puffs as he takes out the thermos and untwists the cap. “Here?”

He offers you a drink first. You stop awkwardly to sip from the brim and thank him. He takes a gulp of his own and hums.

“Not too bad,” he comments, “was of a mind to add some whiskey but we’ll save that for later.”

You chuckle and shake your head. You set off down the sidewalk, keeping a hand on the bottom of the carrier as you make slow progress. It’s the sort of cold that wakes you up. It reminds you of the day you met Lloyd and you scowl. A year. More than.

As you come to the end of the street, someone turns the corner. You don’t pretend to be surprised as Andy approaches. He wears a navy cap, his hair poking out from the hem, and his cheeks are rosy above his thick beard. He smiles as he nears, even as his eye twitches.

“Morning,” he greets brightly, “how’s little Luna?”

You slow as he glances at the baby in her harness. You sway with her as she babbles.

“She’s good,” you answer as Harlan clears his throat. You sniff as you try to roll the tension out of your shoulders, “oh, Andy, this is my… dad, Harlan. Harlan, Andy. The neighbour.”

“Sir,” Andy smiles and offers his hand, “nice to meet you. You must be so proud of your daughter. And granddaughter. A beautiful pair, huh?”

“Beaming,” Harlan shakes his hand gruffly, “couldn’t ask for anything better.”

“Well, uh, I was actually gonna pop in. I found some more baby stuff and thought maybe you could use it,” Andy rescinds his hand, tucking it in his jacket pocket. “I could watch Luna if you want. Give you some time off.”

“Oh, Andy, that’s sweet but… I got all the help I need,” you peek over at Harlan. “I appreciate everything but I hate to take advantage of your kindness.”

“It’s no problem. Really. I don’t mind,” Andy insists, only girding himself as his eyes flit to Harlan and he squares his shoulder, “just putting it out there.”

“I’ll… I’ll keep you in mind,” you utter awkwardly.

Harlan’s silent. You don’t have the courage to look at him. You can feel the tension radiating off of him. He’s shielded in that cool stoicism that once made you feel so small.

“Well, you know my number,” Andy shrugs, “I’m sure you can figure out how to reply to my texts,” he steps forward, gazing at Luna as he coos, surprising you as he bends to kiss the top of her head, “buh bye, Luna.” He grins, his eyes meeting yours as he stands at his full height, “pretty, just like mommy.” He nods and looks past you to Harlan, “try to stay warm out here.”

Andy struts past as you step aside. You hesitate before you continue on, quiet as Harlan lets a hum roll up his throat. He clucks and cranes to peer over his shoulder.

“That’s him?” He asks. You can only nod, staring down in shame. “Ah, well… you keep space from him… for yourself. Man’s got something ‘bout him…. Something off.”

“I… I’ve been ignoring him so…”

“No, no,” Harlan intones, “no, ain’t nothing ‘bout you.”

You stroll on, the uneasiness in his timbre crawling over you in goosebumps. You look down at Luna and run your hand up the back of the carrier, embracing her a little closer. Andy could be a little overbearing but he’s harmless, right?

[queer-coded-dark-mode]

Hey, you know what's fun? Temperature play. How do you do that with your robot gf? Easy. Mess with her cooling systems until she overheats.

Maybe she gets worked up from being toyed with; her cheeks get flush and you hear her fans spin up. So what happens when you unplug one of those fans? Multiple?

Or maybe she's a big girl that does lots of thinking. She's water cooled. What if I just drained some coolant here? Not enough to notice, surely. Just a touch.

"What's that sweetie, you're getting warm? That's funny, you don't feel warm. Are you sure your sensors are calibrated correctly?"

As her systems get hotter, clock cycles start to slow down. Her speech stutters. Eyes are slow to adjust to changes in lighting. You dangle the fan wires or a bottle coolant in front of her, keeping it just out of reach. The entire time, keep applying pleasure. She should be literally hot and bothered.

If she doesn't safeword, let her overheat until she shuts down. I imagine it will feel like a big O that knocks you unconscious.

Plug her fans back in and refill the radiator tank. Get a fresh application of thermal paste under the heatsink. Apply power to auxiliary systems so cooling locks on, but her brain is still off. Once she's back in a healthy range, let her boot up slowly. Hold her. She'll be so grateful for the experience, knowing all the while that you'd never let anything happen to her.

[justagalwhowrites]

Perhaps a Fucksgiving prompt: Joel, in grey sweatpants. (I can't be the only one so affected by grey sweats, right?!) Doesn't even matter what universe it's in because I think it could work in Lavender, Yearling, or NIT. Or something new. Just...have fun with it, lol.

AHHH BESTIE!!!

I love this, thank you so much for this ask. So here's NIT!Joel being an absolute fucking menace in gray sweatpants.

LOVE YOU!!

Fucksgiving 2K23: Gray Sweatpants

Joel makes an... interesting wardrobe choice for Thanksgiving dinner prep. A New in Town BestFriend'sDad!Joel drabble that can be read as a stand alone.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (both from New in Town)

Warnings: SMUT :D No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 1.8k

“It’s too early for this,” you groaned, face down in your pillow. “It’s supposed to be a holiday…” 

Joel chuckled, his large, warm hand spreading over the bare skin of the small of your back. 

“You stay in bed,” he pressed a kiss between your shoulder blades. “I’m the one who decided to smoke a turkey.” 

“No,” you sighed, turning your head against the pillow so your voice wasn’t muffled anymore. “Not going to make you get up on your own. Just do me a favor and start the coffee?” 

He laughed again. 

“Whatever you say, Beautiful.” 

You listened to Joel getting dressed for a moment before you forced yourself to get out of the warm, comfortable bed. 

You loved Thanksgiving with the Millers. So many traditions, so many delicious foods, so many people you loved who loved you back. But the smoked turkey thing was new and, as it turned out, you’d been a lot more excited about it in theory than in practice. Morning sex was not an option when your boyfriend needed to be cooking before 8 a.m. Joel had gotten you some cute festive pajamas, at least - not that he ever left your clothes on long once you were in bed - and you pulled on the orange plaid pants and matching thermal before toying with your hair enough that it wasn’t a disaster and shuffling to the kitchen. 

The coffee pot’s brew cycle was just sputtering to an end when you got there and you pulled down a mug, pouring yourself a big cup and adding Irish cream before making Joel a cup of his own. You glanced at the clock. 7:18 a.m. Joel was never allowed to smoke a turkey again, you decided. Being up this early on Thanksgiving was a bridge too far. 

“You look exhausted,” Joel laughed as you squinted against the morning light. 

“You’d be exhausted, too, if you’d gone out with Sarah and her high school friends last night,” you groaned, passing him his favorite chipped mug, the one with an owl on it. “I swear, I feel like I’m still in my 20s and then I go bar hopping…”

You made your way over to a lounge chair by the pool and plopped down on it, taking a long sip of coffee. As the caffeine settled over you, you actually opened your eyes and took in the golden fall morning, the sun reflecting off the pool, the crisp air, the smell of wood chips as Joel got the smoker running, the outline of your boyfriend’s huge cock clearly visible through his gray sweatpants. 

You damn near choked on your mouthful of coffee when you noticed it, shooting up from the lounge chair coughing and sputtering. Joel frowned, watching you. 

“You alright over there?” He asked. 

“Oh I’m fucking great,” you coughed, beating on your chest a bit to get the rest of the coffee down. “You’re getting changed before Sarah comes over, right?” 

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it,” his frown deepened. “She’s bringing cinnamon rolls over in…” he glanced at his watch. “‘Bout an hour or so. Was just gonna wear this until closer to dinner. Why?” 

“Because, babe, I’m pretty sure I can tell from here whether or not you’re circumcised and that’s not because I had your cock in my mouth last night.” 

Joel’s eyes went wide and he looked down before looking over at you again. 

“They’re just sweatpants, baby.” 

You snorted. 

“They’re gray sweatpants,” you replied. “Those are an entirely different animal.” 

Joel’s frown deepened. 

“What? Why?” He asked. “They’re… they’re sweatpants!” 

“You really don’t know this?” You laughed a little. He shrugged, still looking at you like you were just a bit crazy. “Oh, babe…” 

You set your cup of coffee down and went over to him, looking him up and down. 

Yeah, you got to see Joel every day. You lived together, after all, and moving in together hadn’t exactly lessened your sex drives. The only day you hadn’t fucked in recent memory was when you had a stomach flu and you were too sick to have anything going into you, including Joel. But you still loved to look at him, at his shaggy, graying hair; at his soft, brown eyes; at his strong, broad chest. Even without the… advantageous sweatpants, you’d been enjoying the view. He might have been in a threadbare Texas Longhorns shirt that was probably the same age as Sarah he managed to look fucking gorgeous in it, the shoulders stretched a little tight and the sleeves a bit snug on his thick biceps, the outline of his soft stomach just visible through the drape of the fabric. 

“Let me demonstrate,” you said, locking your eyes on his and reaching down to trace over his cock through the fabric, starting at his tip with the lightest pressure. He gasped softly when you made contact with him and you smiled ever so slightly. “I can tell your head starts right here…” He moaned a little and you ran your fingers down to the ridge of him, tracing back and forth over the flare of his tip. “And that it ends right here.” 

“Fuck, beautiful…” 

You smiled and moved lower, down his shaft. 

“Can tell just how big you are,” you said, voice breathy. He moaned and you kept going until you were at the base of him, tracing him there, too, before wrapping your hand around him as best you could with the fabric between you, starting to stroke him. He whimpered, dropping his head to your shoulder. “And I can tell that you’re getting hard…” 

“Not giving me much choice in that, Beautiful,” he groaned. “Jesus fucking Christ…” 

You took your hand back. 

“But you’ve got a bird to smoke so…” 

You turned to go grab your coffee again, smirking once your back was to him. But Joel reached out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you back into him with a needy grunt. 

“Don’t know where you think you’re goin’…” he growled, pulling you tight against him, so tight you could feel his hardening length on your stomach. 

“Me?” You said, feigning innocence. “I just don’t want to be in the way of the chef…” 

“Shoulda thought of that sooner,” he kissed you firmly, desperately, his tongue opening your mouth and sliding inside. You kissed him back until he pulled away from you, breathless. “Gotta make this quick…” 

He took your hand and pulled you in the house and you laughed as he started tugging at your shirt the second you were in from the cool morning air. He tossed it on the couch and his mouth was almost immediately on your breast, sucking and licking at you as he maneuvered you back toward the couch. He pushed your pants and panties down as he did and you stepped out of them, leaving them in a pile on the floor. You pulled at Joel’s shirt and he almost reluctantly pulled his lips from you as you exposed his chest. He nudged you down onto the couch so you were sitting on the middle cushion and he spread your legs wide before shoving his pants to the floor.

Joel knelt between your thighs and hooked his hands in the crease of your knees, pulling your ass to the edge of the cushion as you let out a surprised yelp. He notched his head against your dripping hole and took hold of your thighs before thrusting fully into you in one sharp, firm motion. 

“Fuck!” You moaned, the stretch of him burning in the most satisfying way. 

“This what you were tryin’ to get me to do?” He panted as he fucked into you, fingers sinking into your flesh. “Tryin’ to get me to fuck you silly? That it?” 

“Fuck, yes!” You groaned and he slid one hand to your lower stomach, his thumb finding your clit as fingers spread wide over your skin. He pressed down on you and the sensation of him filling you grew impossibly stronger. You could feel his hand pushing on where his cock was opening you and your body was already getting tight and hot and needy. “Fuck, Joel, holy shit…” 

“Gonna fill you up real good, Beautiful,” his voice was strained. “Leave you so fuckin’ full of me, make you feel it all day.” 

You moaned at his words, at his thumb working you, at the slide of his thick, heavy cock as he pushed deep into you. 

“I’m gonna come, Joel,” you panted, all but squirming below his touch. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna…” 

“Do it,” he fucked into you even harder. “Come for me, come on my cock, want you to milk this cock, give it to me, Beautiful, fucking come for me.” 

You obeyed, your hand flying to Joel’s forearm and digging your nails into him as your pussy fluttered and pulsed over him. 

“There she is,” he fucked you through it. “Jesus Christ, feel so fuckin’ good, gonna fill you up Baby, leave you so full…” 

He pressed deep, to the very end of you and you felt him spill deep inside you, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he filled you with rope after rope of his come. 

“Fuck,” he moaned as your orgasms both ended and he collapsed onto you, his head on your chest as you both panted for breath. You scratched your fingers through his hair and you kissed the top of his head, breathing in the fresh, clean smell of him that was now tinged with sex. 

After a moment he sat up enough to kiss you deeply as he pulled himself out of you and he got to his feet. He went to the bathroom and came back with a washcloth, gently cleaning your messy slit. 

“Just because I probably shouldn’t say this around your entire family, can I say that I’m thankful for your dick?” You teased.

Joel laughed, shaking his head. 

“I’m just thankful for you,” he said, leaning over and kissing you. “Pussy’s a bonus.” 

He passed you your clothes before gathering his own. He put on his shirt and underwear but tossed his sweatpants over his arm before heading back toward the bedroom. 

“What…” you began, but he cut you off. 

“Clearly can’t trust you around the gray sweatpants,” he teased. “Better change before you got me worried about a different kind of stuffing…” 

You groaned as you pulled on your shirt. 

“Oh shit, I forgot, you still have to actually get the turkey in the smoker!” 

He laughed. 

“Don’t worry, Beautiful,” he said. “Think that was worth dinner starting a bit late. Might have to make it a new Thanksgiving Day tradition.” 

You laughed, too. 

“We just might.” 

[inbabylontheywept]

Someone had to go first

The first ship that arrived was pretty matter of fact about its fate. The pilot introduced himself as Eric, then told us he was part of the first sublight resupply attempt in modern history. He then gave me and the ground control team his bad news.

“So,” he said. “Without real time telemetry, we weren’t even sure which half of your orbit you’d be in. That’s half a solar system’s worth of wiggle room. Decelerating enough to survive contact with your low orbit would take me two weeks, which, you know, it looks like we don’t have. That means that in order to get the second ship in before you lose orbital control to the Kresh, I’m gonna have to make a sacrificial flyby. Ten to the negative four torr is good enough for a lot of things, but at point-seven c it’s gonna be like sandblasting a soup cracker. Good news is that all the expensive toys are in the next ship, so this really ain’t costing you more than a ship and a pilot.”

“You knew,” I said. If they put the expensive toys in the second ship, they knew that the first was likely a sacrifice. No one smart enough to handle orbital physics would miss that.

“I did,” he replied. “But someone had to go first.”

That was, of course, a lie. No one had to go first. No else had had, at least. When our connection to the FTL network was lost, we’d understood that as the end of our reinforcements. Doing resupplies via sublight was just too risky. It was a testament to Earth that it had accepted the risk and continued anyway.

“Is there anything we can do for you?” I asked. This man had come here to die for us. I wasn’t sure how much I could give, but what I had was his.

“I do have a few requests,” he said. “First up, I need as much high-orbital data as you got. The whole lot.”

I began directing tightbeam resources to him immediately. It was an easy resource to exchange - it wasn’t like there was anyone else out to talk to anymore. When we lost FTL, we found ourselves very, very alone.

“Second,” he said. “Right, I know I’m gonna sound like a princess right now, but I have been stuck in this stupid tin-can for almost two-years now, and I seriously overestimated how much I like synth music. If you have anything that’s analog - I don’t care what kind of string or drum or brass you play, but I’d kill to hear something without a beep in it.”

I jumped my own queue in the tightbeam, and added a short playlist that I ripped from the local web. Human Music, it was labeled. 3 Terabytes. I prayed there was something on it that he’d like.

“And third,” he said. “Third. The uh, next pilot is pretty mad at me. Turns out this will just be one of those things left unfinished. That’s all death really is, I guess - a lot of unfinished things. Let him know that he was right: He is a better pilot than me. But tell him that wouldn’t have made a difference here. Bad luck beats skill, and this luck was shit.”

I promised, and he went silent after that. We could see what data he was analyzing, and the short answer was all of it - everything from atmospheric density to troop positions and his own ship’s blueprints. He knew he had one shot at this, and that if the price wasn’t paid here, it would be paid by whoever came next.

--- --- --- --- ---

Ground control didn’t get a verbal warning that he’d entered atmosphere. Just a ping. A little here-I-am, whispered in the dark.

After that, we could keep track with visuals alone.

He hit the outskirts of the exoatmosphere in his first pass, burning bright enough to be seen with the naked eye. He caught the sparse particles like a kite, trying to shed enough speed to hit actual low orbit. Automatic telemetry updates gave us the grim news for the ship: Thermals were holding up decently, but the ablative was wearing out fast.

The entire descent brought us more than two hour’s reprieve. The Kresh hadn’t expected to see a resupply, but they knew what one meant: Get it now, get it fast, or deal with a stream of new troops. They could buy themselves ten days' time by shooting this one ship down now.

That was an eternity during a siege.

The first loop lowered the speed by about a twentieth of light. The pilot responded by pulling the ship in tighter, trying to preserve more ablative plating by trading off with thermal. Seven fighters were close enough to fire off heat seekers. I don’t think the Kresh had ever anticipated shooting down a craft coming in that hot - the missile's decoy avoidance countermeasure actually made it steer around the thing, chasing down loose pieces of shrapnel. Cooled fragments, still hotter than an engine should be at full blast. The simple mistakes bought it enough time to enter pre-orbit, and the fighters had to stop their pursuit. They weren’t willing to die to stop the ship.

Our man, on the other hand, was already committed to that course.

A third loop followed a fourth. Ablative coating went from 65% integrity, to 30%, to 5%. Telemetry scans were exceptionally detailed - the pilot was making the flyby count. The last message we got from him was simple:

Are you EMP shielded? he asked, not even bothering to encrypt the text stream. He didn’t have time to process more than that.

Yes, we replied. We knew what he was thinking, but it was still a shock to see it. The fusion torch that was driving his ship flared hot, burning through the nozzle and feeding directly into the craft’s deuterium supply. The reaction went super critical, and the resulting neutron pulse set off everything in the ship with a z-count higher than iron. Three continuous seconds of EM interference screamed through the comms as the hulk burned brighter than the sun.

The explosion itself wasn’t powerful enough to reach the Kresh ships still in high orbit, but it made enough broadband radiation to blind both sides LADAR. The man must have been a hell of a pilot - half the shrapnel went down and burned up as it entered the standard atmosphere, sacrificed to move the other half past lagrange. Standard evasion would’ve made the pieces easy to dodge, but with LADAR down, all the Kresh could do was sit still and cower as the wrath of a dead man riddled them full of holes. Our best ace had managed to shoot down seven ships before this before getting shot down himself. The wreckage of the freighter took down six.

--- --- --- --- ---

The second ship came in stealth. One second, we were holding attrition in high orbit, the next, something the size of a small station came ripping through the atmosphere.

It did the same trick as the former - swapping between ablative and thermal loads, coming down at a speed that the Kresh fighters didn’t even try to match. Armies could be built in years, but skills like this took decades.

Telemetry connection was established almost as an afterthought. The way the ship casually ate through ablative armoring made my eyes water, but the pilot himself seemed pretty non-plussed.

“You’re down to fifteen percent coverage. You need-

“What I need,” he said, “is to see the previous ship’s telemetry as soon as I land. And I don't need your help landing it.”

He cut off my chance to reply by flicking the channel off. We watched, and we wrang our hands, but sure enough he came in six minutes later with 4% of the ablative left.

I met him on the landing pad. Under normal circumstances, we’d have needed twenty-four hours for the craft to cool enough to even approach, but we’d had cryo ready just in case. Three tankers of nitrogen, and the loading area, at least, was cool enough to touch. Safety would have to take a backseat to speed here - we needed the supplies fast.

But those both would take a backseat to a promised conversation with the second pilot. He was out of the craft as soon as the air was cool enough to avoid scalding his lungs, picking through the workers to try and find who had the telemetry data.

I found him first. The drive went into his hands, but I needed to keep my promise with Eric before letting go.

“You’re better than the first pilot,” I said, and I wasn’t lying. If the previous flier had been a saint, this one was a god. “But you wouldn’t have been able to manage the landing either. There just wasn’t time.”

“Let me see,” he said, tugging on the drive. “Just let me see. I have to know I couldn’t do it either. I have to know that someone had to die.”

I let go of the drive and he stalked back into his ship. I didn’t follow. I figured I’d pushed things far enough.

--- --- --- --- ---

The second pilot left the ship six hours later. He looked bleary in a way that put me at ease. I’d been up the last six hours directing supplies from the ship. Everything from ground-to-orbit rails to AGI targeting systems was inside - to call it gamechanging would be an understatement. It was good work, but I was tired, and I didn’t want to have to pretend otherwise. Seeing the other man with bags under his eyes meant we could just be frank with each other.

“I couldn’t have managed it,” he said, half-ashamed, half-relieved.

“It just wasn’t possible,” I agreed.

We sat there a moment longer. I didn’t mind the break. This was time well spent.

“Did it hurt?” he asked finally.

“Ablative failed before heating,” I said, which was the technical way of saying no. “He overloaded the reactor before the ship actually broke up and did some kind of slingshot maneuver - hit the main body of the Kresh fleet with half a space station’s worth of shrapnel.”

“Good,” he said.

I knew the signs. The tremor in his cheek, the way his jaw clenched - it wasn’t professional, but I hugged him anyway. Let him have the dignity of choosing to weep instead of having it wrenched out of him.

It was a gift we’d all been given at some point in this war. At least now, there was the hope it could be over soon.